Turning the Cards of Fate

Chapter 2

He leaned back against the hard, dull white bed and resisted the urge to sigh. He knew that he was in trouble, again. He knew that it was his fault, again. But really, he didn't understand what exactly he had done to deserve getting locked in his cell once more.

Well, maybe cell was a bit of an exaggeration. The small room had a toilet, a sink, and a bed. That was it. Instead of metal bars, like some people had, he was completely surrounded by the dull white walls. It was almost as if they were afraid that he would do something.

Which, to be honest, was just moronic. How could it not be? He had learned the hard way not to speak unless given permission years ago. And, to think, he was one of the lucky ones. He was still alive. He had learned to speak. He had learned to have a personality that was different than what the Guards and Agents wished. He had learned to soak up the information that he overheard.

Most of the people here, in Valos Rehabilitation Center, either died as children or disappeared as soon as they became teenagers. He was currently twenty.

The few children that he had known as a child were long since dead, most from a punishment that was too harsh for them to handle. He, like everyone who grew up in Valos, had his fair share of scars. His entire back, the last time he had been able to see it, was a lighter shade than the rest of his skin. He had scars on top of his scars.

And he was going to get even more, he thought with an inward wince. He had known better, how could he not, but he had moronically stepped between a Guard and one of the prisoners.

Normally, he had learned to suppress the need to step in front of those receiving wrath from their wardens, but this time, he couldn't...

The Guard was a tall man, well built, and could snap someone like him in half if he tried. He didn't want to imagine what the man would have done to the five year old who dropped her tray at midday meal. If she had been slightly taller, or maybe more hardy, he would have been able to ignore it like everyone else did, but her eyes... they were dull, dead almost. The light blue eyes of the little one didn't belong on someone her age.

He knew that it meant that he was in for a punishment, but that didn't make him feel like he had made a mistake. His body was much more suited for being able to handle the harsh sting of the whip cutting through the flesh on his back than the little girl whose bones showed through her translucent skin.

It was funny, in a way. Most of his scars wouldn't have ever existed if he hadn't had a bad habit of standing up to the Guards and Agents that were picking on the younger ones. When it came to sacrificing himself for others, common sense seemed to abandon him.

The funny part was that he couldn't stop the children from getting hurt anymore than he could stop himself from butting in. He would honestly be surprised if the girl lived for the rest of the week.

If she did, she would most likely end up in extra rehabilitation classes. He suppressed a shiver. He hated those more than anything. They, like the food, left his mind foggy and made it hard for him to think.

Then again, it had always been this way. The only time he thought clearly was when they had locked him in his cell and forgot to give him a meal for several days.

He had never known a life outside of Valos. He knew there was one, and he knew why he was here. He also knew his chance of leaving any time soon was practically none. If he stayed, though, he was sure that the attempts on his life would increase again.

How annoying.

From what he understood, which wasn't that much, seeing as the One Nation hated him, he and the others were criminals. He, in particular, apparently had a talent for stealing that he was unaware of until recently. Most of the children here were here because they had the potential to become thieves, or some other kind of soft criminal.